A Completely Unbelievable Sitch
by OtisSpofford
Summary: Dr. Possible creates a device capable of "breaking the fourth wall".  CAUTION: contains humor drier than the Sahara.  You've been warned.


_I pulled this one from the scraps of a dream after a night of good company, good mexican food, and good mexican beer. I'm blaming the enchiladas and Dos Equis. Stay thirsty my friends._

_O.S._

* * *

Dr. James Timothy Possible tinkered with the odd assortment of equipment stacked on the workbench in his garage. It looked like parts of several different computers put together almost haphazardly with a large antennae of some sort sticking out of top center. A keyboard sat to one side.

His eyes were squeezed in concentration and the tip of his tongue stuck out the right side of his mouth. He poked here, prodded there, tightened (or loosened) several bolts and screws. Finally, he stepped back and looked over the entire apparatus with a critical eye.

"That should just about do it."

After a dramatic pause, he flipped a large switch behind the workbench. The machine came to life, clicking and whirring. Lights flickered and glowed. It emitted a constant high pitched but barely audible whine. Dr. Possible sat down, drew the keyboard to himself, and cracked his knuckles.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" he typed.

_I'm so startled by words appearing magically on the screen of my word processor that I reflexively roll the chair back from the desk several feet. I stare in disbelief at the four words on the screen. Surely someone is playing a trick. I look around, even though I live alone and have no guests at the moment. Scenes from _The Net_ flicker through my mind._

"Hello? Anyone?"

_I scoot back up to the desk and peer more closely at the screen as these new words appear. I blink and rub my eyes._

_"What next?" I wonder. " 'Follow the white rabbit? Knock-knock, Neo'?" Tentatively I reach for the keyboard._

_"Who is this?" I type._

_New words appear on the screen._

"My name is Dr. James Possible. Who am I speaking with?"

_The name convinces me that this is some kind of joke. I play along in the hopes of drawing out the prankster._

_"My name is Otis. Otis Spofford."_

"And what kind of work do you do, Mr. Spofford?"

_"I'm a writer. Sort of."_

"Excellent! Just what I wanted to hear. It means this thing actually works."

_"And just exactly what would 'this thing' be?"_

"You know, I haven't thought of a name for it yet. It's a machine, mostly computers. At its' heart is a device that I borrowed from some associates that allows me to create an inter-dimensional link that effectively penetrates what you writers call 'the fourth wall'. I'm actually glad to be talking to you. If my calculations had been off I would have opened a black hole the size of Nevada."

_Curiosity is starting to get the better of me. Whoever this prankster is, they know their KP. Obviously the pan-dimensional vortex inducer has struck again. The only problem is that the people I know who know my love for the show either think it's a terribly stupid thing (which results in countless hours of ribbing), or simply dismiss it as another of the many childish quirks of my personality. Either way, none of them know the show well enough for this particular nuance. But then again, to my knowledge none of them know how to make words appear out of thin air into someone else's word processor either. I keep thinking of John Candy's typewriter in _Delirious,_ only in reverse._

_"So you honestly expect me to believe that you're Dr. James Timothy Possible, father of teen heroine Kim Possible, and that you're contacting me through my computer, across dimensions, using the pan-dimensional vortex inducer? You do realize how utterly ludicrous that sounds?"_

"I guess when you put it that way. But your knowledge of things I haven't spoken of proves my theory. Let me guess. You are the creator of a successful series of novels chronicling the fictitious life of my Kimmy Cub."

_It takes me several moments to stop laughing enough that I can type legibly._

_"Okay. Who are you? Really? No one could be that gullible. Do I even know you? How are you doing the thing with the words on the screen?"_

"I assure you, I am who I say I am. Tell me, are you familiar with quantum mechanics?"

_"Enough to know the field exists. My understanding of physics slows way down after Special Relativity."_

"Then a detailed mathematical explanation won't work?"

_"Not really. But in the spirit, I'll play along. You're talking parallel universes. The theory that somewhere in the infinite layers of the multiverse, everything that _might_ have happened, _did_ happen."_

"Laymen's terms, but close enough."

_"Well, then just for fun, I'll let _YOU_ believe that somewhere there's a universe where _I'M_ believing any of this. And no, I don't write books about Kim and I didn't create her. I do greatly enjoy the Disney cartoon series entitled _Kim Possible_ and in my free time write the occasional fan-fic."_

_There was a long pause._

"A fan-fic writer? Hmmm. Not what I had in mind when I turned this thing on."

_"Gee, thanks."_

"No offense intended, Mr. Spotted."

_What, am I Ron now?_

_"That's Spofford."_

_Geez, it's right there on his screen if he just scrolls up a few lines._

"Sorry. Spofford, of course."

_"Okay, so I've got to ask the obvious question. Why?"_

"Why what?"

_"Assume for the moment I believe you are who you say you are. Why would you think you were a fictional character, and why would you want to…break the fourth wall…as you put it?"_

_The question is ridiculous enough on it's own. The fact that I actually typed it indicates that on some level I'm considering an element of reality to this sitch. I peer at the bottle next to my keyboard to confirm it's only half full, then I get up and walk to the kitchen where I open the refrigerator and check the six pack of Dos Equis. Only two of the six slots are empty. Just as I remembered. I return to the computer where "Dr. Possible's" response waits._

"Why wouldn't I?"

_I briefly consider his viewpoint. He lives in a world where cheerleading skills qualify as a superpower. A world where talking rodents, shapeshifting, time travel, mind control, emotion control, and brain switching are everyday occurrences. A world where a toxic lake can produce human-animal mutants without the involvement of EPA bureaucrats _or_ PETA protesters. _ANYTHING_ was possible. Perhaps I'd wonder if I were on a TV show, too. And if I thought I could build a machine that would let me talk to the producers…well that'd certainly be advantageous. _

_"Mr. Schooley," I could say, "How about writing in a nice fat pay raise for me?"_

_Or "Hey Mr. McCorkle, could you see to it that my girlfriend is in the mood tonight? Thanks a bunch."_

_Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on a second. Time out. I'm _NOT_ actually considering that this is really happening to me._

"Mr. Swofford? Are you still there?"

_Spofford. Spofford. Don't you have Beverly Cleary in your universe?_

_"Yes, I'm still here."_

_Just wondering if it's time to install padding on the walls. Okay, so I can consider that there are six possibilities here._

_One: someone I know has secret skills that allow them to make words appear on my computer screen, has watched multiple, and more likely all, episodes of _Kim Possible_ for the sole purpose of being able to sound convincing, and is pulling an extremely complicated April Fool's joke on me either way too late or way too early. _

_Two: a stranger has somehow targeted me for some kind of elaborate prank or experiment, researched me, spied on me, developed this ability to make words appear on my computer (allowable if you assume it's CIA or something) and is using a children's television show to mess with my mind for unknown reasons._

_Three: through some stupendous trick of nature and technology, I actually _am_ talking to Dr. James Timothy Possible through my computer utilizing the pan-dimensional vortex inducer. Man, I can't even type it with a straight face._

_Four: I'm falling down, slobbering drunk._

_Five: I'm dreaming._

_And finally, six: I've lost it. My elevator has stopped short of the top floor, the turnips have fallen off my truck, my cheese has done slid off my cracker. I'm nuttier than a jar of Planters._

_Possibilities one and two seem so unlikely that I think I can safely rule them out, and I've already ruled out possibility four to the best of my ability. That leaves three, five, and six. Logically, no matter which is true, there's no harm in continuing this "conversation" with an open mind._

_"So Mr. Dr. P," I type, "Tell me something about Kim that's not in the show…."_

_

* * *

_

_Just wanted to say thanks for the reviews. Honestly, I didn't think this one would be well recieved. I thought it was hilarious but didn't think my dry, acerbic sense of humor would translate._

_To slipgate: Why give him trouble with my name? Because I thought it was funny. Sorry, that's it. And my profile practically begs you to google my nom de plume. It's an inside joke to myself._

_To CB73 and SP, sorry, but this is all this story was ever meant to be. Maybe someday I'll revisit, but I have other projects I'm trying to squeeze into what little free time I have these days...though cookies and cake would be nice._


End file.
